[Author's Note: There are some time-jumps in this chapter, so let me give a quick clarification: When I say 'first night', I'm talking about the night described in Chapter 2. When I say 'first day', I mean the morning after the first night. Got it? Good. Everything else is self-explanatory. (Oh, and Merry Almost-Christmas!)]
~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Though the Doctor had made it very clear by that point that there's nothing wrong with anything she felt about the situation, Clara still felt foolish when she woke up on the third day shaking, drenched in a cold sweat and panicking for a moment when her eyes opened and nothing changed.
She took a few long, gasping breaths and tried to calm her wildly pounding heart. Bit by bit the scenery fell into place by feel alone; one hand clamped over a fistful of mangled sheets, the other gripping the edge of her nightstand, one leg dangling half off the bed, her face buried in her soft pillow. She sat up slowly, the terror draining quickly from her body as everything became familiar once more.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes tiredly, and her knuckles caught on a bit of wetness. Frowning, she swiftly scrubbed a few lingering tears from her cheeks, so violently her skin stung. "I said I was done with you yesterday." She said harshly to herself as she banished the salty moisture from her useless eyes.
She untangled herself bit by bit from her sweat-soaked sheets and slipped out of bed, feeling a sense of placement when her feet touched the floor. Slowly, the map of her room fell into place in her mind, and she walked calmly, albeit slowly, to her dresser and began to pull clothes from one of the drawers.
Dressed now, she moved back to the direction of her bed, hand extended, until she tapped against her nightstand. She found her clock and ran her fingers carefully across it, finally finding and pressing the right button.
"8:00 a.m." A mechanical voice read aloud. Had this been a normal week, she would have been surprised the Doctor had not already bundled himself into her room, grinning manically and shouting her out of bed with promises of fantastical things to do and places to see. But he had treaded very lightly around her these past few days, not coming into her room at all since early the morning of the first day and seeming to not make a single noise anywhere in the TARDIS, almost as if she were sleeping and he was afraid to wake her.
She wasn't sure if that was because he was worried he would do the wrong thing and upset her, or if he truly thought she wanted to be left alone, or even if he just felt too awkward around her now. The scarred part of her that wished to suffer bitterly in solitude was quite pleased by his behavior, happy that he had the sense of mind to finally know when she needed to be given space.
But then there was a small part of her, burrowed deep in her chest, that wanted him, like he had on that first, terrifying night, to comfort and hold her, stroke her hair and brush tears from her eyes and kiss the top of her head.
She kept that part of her holed up inside, like a guilty secret she barely even wanted to share with herself, much less the Doctor. Though it hadn't yet been a week, she knew she was far past the times of tears and gentle comfort. It was time to heal and move on, something she knew the Doctor would help her with, even if she knew he would never go as far as he had that first night ever again.
It was a nice memory though, and, though it was a little more than half embarrassing, she kept it carefully tucked inside her mind, filed away, so that on any dark night she would have to spend alone, she could still have the comfort of his gentle words echoing in her head.
"You are always perfect."
"I will never abandon you."
"We'll do this together, yeah? You and me."
And that was enough encouragement to keep trying.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~
The first night-
The Doctor lay heavily down on his bed, sinking down more into it than he usually did, like his entire body were made of rock, sinking him farther and farther into the mattress. Hell, it wasn't even his bed. After he'd left Clara's room, he'd just stumbled into the first bedroom he'd found in the hallway and hastily claimed it for himself.
He hoped she was asleep now, dreaming something so peaceful the entire ordeal would fade from her mind. But, though he could hear nothing through the thick metal walls (And perhaps the TARDIS was helping out a bit in giving her privacy), he knew that was not the case. More than likely, she had broken down again as soon as he'd left, and was now sobbing mutedly into her pillow.
He wished she wouldn't hold her tears back until he had left, however strong she wished to appear. This wasn't something he expected her to be strong for. Oh Clara, tough little Clara, who always tried so hard to be brave and never truly let her feelings get in the way, especially not in the way of him.
He wished, just a bit, that she would allow herself to break down in front of him, let him hold her and whisper comforting words into her ears again, like she had a few hours ago in the console room. But he knew that in her mind, this was her time to be strong. By herself, however much that he wanted to help.
He knew, though, that she would let him in eventually. She had said it herself, when she had clasped her hands in his and while tears leaked from both their eyes. A quiet promise,
"You and me."
And that was enough for now. He could wait.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~
First day; early morning-
The metallic silence that permeated through the empty hallways of the TARDIS in the earliest hours of dawn were suddenly echoed full of a sharp, rapping pattern.
Knock knock knock!
And then a hesitant voice, "Clara?"
Knock knock knock!
"...Hello?"
More knocking, then, this time a little more uncertain. The Doctor tried once again to call the voice of his companion, to still no response. He sighed softly and, after a moment's reluctance, reached for the handle and opened the heavy metal door himself.
Inside was dim; not quite completely dark, but about the same level of light one would expect to see outside at the crack of dawn on a normal Earth day. Of course, he'd programmed her room to adjust the light to the time like that. She'd been fascinated by it, at first, enjoying the simple way she could keep track of time just by peeking into her room.
He wondered if he could disable that feature now, or if he'd never really be able to bring himself to.
Stepping lightly into the room, he let the door slide gently shut behind him, thankfully making no more of a sound than a gentle click. Blinking rapidly a few times to adjust from the brightness of the hallway to the darkness of the bedroom, he began to make out shapes of the furniture: Clara's dresser a few feet to his right, her bed across the room against the wall, the little painted nightstand just next to it.
"Clara?" He spoke softly to the barely perceptible shape burrowed under the blankets. He winced sharply as his voice cut violently through the still silence of the dark room.
The blankets shifted slightly, and he thought he heard a soft whisper of a response, which was all but completely inaudible. He waited for a moment for another acknowledgement, and when he didn't get one he took a few careful steps forward.
"Are you awake?" He spoke in the lowest voice he could manage, but it still felt to him like an intrusion in the sleepy atmosphere.
"Yeah." This time, the word could clearly be made out. Clara shifted again, rolling part of the way over so he could see the small part of her face that she wasn't hiding under the comforter. "I've been awake." She added softly.
"How long?" The Doctor asked, inwardly cringing at the thought that his rapid-fire knocking would have jarred her from sleep.
"Long time." She murmured. "An hour, maybe. I don't know."
"Oh." It was all he could think of to say. Had she gotten any sleep at all? Or had just just lain awake most of the night, in pain or crying? Would she even answer honestly if he asked?
"Doctor, could you just-" She paused, taking a slow breath in through her nose and exhaling into her pillow. "Could you just maybe leave me alone for a while?" The last part of the sentence was so quietly spoken he almost didn't catch all of it.
He stiffened sharply, raising one hand and running it through his hair repeatedly like a nervous tic. He came up with 7 different responses and none of them made it past his lips.
"We can talk later, I just- I really want to be left alone right now. Is that okay?" Clara explained softly, her voice tightening a little with rising anger: Unjustified anger that had been building over the lack of proper sleep, the ear-splitting knocking, and everything at all since she had opened her eyes and found nothing but pitch darkness.
"Okay, okay." The Doctor replied, sounding as hurt and confused as a kicked puppy. She heard him swallow hard and exhale softly, and she tightened her fingers against her pillow to stop from getting up, hugging him, punching him, anything.
She heard his footsteps retreat for a moment, then pause, shuffle hesitantly for a moment, the tiptoe swiftly toward her again.
The Doctor gently set the mug of tea he had made for her on the nightstand, shot her one last pained glance, then padded silently out of the room.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~
After that, they avoided each other for far too long.
Clara wouldn't leave the fortress of her room, wouldn't even unlock the door, for nearly a day and a half. She was focusing on the little tasks, the first of which would be learning her own bedroom, which she did for most of her second day after the incident. She didn't even want to remember the first day, where she'd barely even left her bed, drifting in and out of consciousness without even realizing it.
The Doctor wandered up and down the corridors, passing her room more than once (More than a dozen times), but never even fully focusing his eyes on it for the entire first day. He wanted to just sleep, though it wasn't something he usually partook in, if only to have a few short hours of blissful unawareness. But he couldn't, he couldn't even make himself sit down.
So instead he paced, up and down the halls, running through his head all the questions he had but would never manage to ask even himself.
On the second day they both couldn't escape the thought of each other. The Doctor stood outside her door, his fingers twitching with the urge to knock on the smooth surface. He couldn't be sure that if he did, whether she would open the door and let him pour his thoughts out loud to her, or if she would simply ignore him.
Either one would be nearly unbearably uncomfortable, he concluded finally, so he didn't take that final step. Just stood there, fingers drumming against the sides of his legs absentmindedly, for nearly an hour.
Maybe if he had known she was leaning against the inside of her door, her breath condensating on the cool surface, her throat constricting as she debated calling out his name, he might have done something. But he didn't, so instead they both stood there, in an unaware stalemate, until they gave up at exactly the same time, leaving the door deserted for the rest of the day.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~
He finally came in on the third day. It wasn't very long after she was fully dressed that she heard the hesitant knock on the door, so faint she almost missed it. She made her way over to it slowly, finding the doorknob after a moment and easing the door open.
"Hello," She started, and then waited patiently for several seconds for a reply. She almost thought she had imagined the knock when suddenly he was hugging her. It wasn't even a long hug, just a quick embrace and release, but even that small amount of contact, after two days in solitude, filled the empty place in her chest with a kind of light warmth.
"How are you?" He asked finally, and hearing his voice again was pleasantly welcoming. She thought maybe she'd forgotten how much she wanted him near her.
"Fine." Lie lie lie, but she didn't know how she was meant to answer that question. It seemed more of a formality than an actual inquiry, like he just couldn't think of anything else to ask. She figured having their conversation through a doorway wasn't helping. "Come in."
She felt the end of his coat brush gently against her leg as he walked past her. She didn't hear anything then, and for a few moments she wasn't sure where he was, until she finally heard the sound of creaking springs as he sat down on the edge of her bed.
The Doctor watched quietly as she moved hesitantly towards him, trying to reach discreetly out with her hand to find the mattress without him noticing. Quietly, he reached forward, taking her hand and gently guiding her to sit down next to him. He didn't remove his hand even when she'd sat down, and she didn't make any attempt herself to remove it.
They sat there in silence for a moment, the Doctor gently stroking his thumb across the back of her hand absently, and tried to think of something to say, both so full of questions that they couldn't bring themselves to ask,
"Should I have come in sooner?"
"Should I have let you in before?"
"Do you want to go home?"
"Do you want me to leave?"
"Do your eyes still hurt?"
"Do my eyes look different?"
"Can I fix you?"
"Can you fix me?"
"I'm sorry," It's the Doctor who finally broke the silence, speaking in a soft whisper. He sighed and began to bump the heels of his shoes against the edge of her bedframe in a rhythm, making a light tap tap tap sound echo throughout the small room.
"For what?" Clara asked.
"Leaving you in here." He replied quietly, turning to look at her.
"If I wanted you I could have called for you." Clara said simply, keeping her face focused on the wall in front of them.
The Doctor laughed humorlessly. "You shouldn't have to. I'm the one responsible for you right now." The sound of his shoes rapping against the wood intensified.
"You were here on the first night." She mumbled, trying hard to remember those few hours, which were blurry and muddled in her memory.
"Doesn't matter." He said, slapping his palms against the sides of his legs and dropping his gaze to the floor. "I shouldn't have left you here, it was... thoughtless. I'm sorry."
"Hey, Doctor?" She interrupted, her head turning in his direction, his chest tightening a little when her eyes met directly with his.
"Hmm?" He responded after a silent moment.
"It's okay, alright? I don't mind." Her hand found his, her fingers gently resting against his knuckles. "I'm just glad you're here now." She gave him a small, hesitant smile, but he could see now something resembling actual happiness in it.
He grinned back, a full, bright smile that lit up his whole face. He turned his hand palm-up and wrapped his fingers around hers tightly, prompting another flicker of a grin from the girl.
Everything was silent for a moment, neither of them speaking and the Doctor having stopped his compulsive tapping against the bed frame.
"Do you-" The Doctor seemed to regret starting the sentence instantly; his mouth snapped shut and his lips pursed inward, like he were trying to pull the words back into his mouth.
"Do I what?" Clara asked hesitantly, after a second of waiting for him to finish the thought.
"I... nothing." The Doctor replied slowly, dropping his eyes again and loosening his hold of her hand.
"No, what?" Clara asked again, intensity growing behind the unfocused haze that clouded her eyes. This wasn't a question that was going to go unanswered.
"I'm not sure- I mean, I don't want to rush you-" His sentences were becoming fragmented ramblings and his nervous foot-tapping had resumed. He raised his free hand and slid it through his unkempt brown hair a few times.
Clara's head tilted somewhat, her familiar curious-look causing one thin eyebrow to raise and her lips to part slightly. It was hard to not think of a puppy, who had just heard something that might be interesting and was listening intently for it.
"Do you maybe," the Doctor tried again. "Do you want to try a walk around the TARDIS with me?"
"Yes." The response was almost immediate, her expression not changing a bit. She actually appeared to be watching his face for a reaction as he blinked at her in surprise.
"Really?" He asked. "I mean, are you sure? I can come back a little later if you-"
"No." Clara cut him off, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'm tired of being in here alone. I have to leave eventually." She finally dropped her gaze then, smiling nervously. "And we said we'd help each other with this together, right?" She added in a hushed voice.
The Doctor's face spread again into a bright smile. "You're right, we did." He said. He lifted her hand to his face, kissed it softly, and stood up off the bed. "C'mon then, Clara. Let's go."
~.~.~.~.~.~
[Author's Note: I am SO sorry this took so long to get updated. Lo sentimos mucho, mis amigos. I hope the long chapter made up for it, but it probably didn't. But hey, it's Christmas. Cut me a little slack and just have a happy holidays, guys. I'm not even going to give you an estimate on when the next chapter will be up, but it's probably safe to say it'll be somewhere between a week and two months. Ciao!]